


It's Just A Prank, Bro(therhood)

by Kalimyre



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Hand Jobs, Improvised Sex Toys, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 16:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10925751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalimyre/pseuds/Kalimyre
Summary: Danse loves his power armor. It loves him back.





	It's Just A Prank, Bro(therhood)

Scribe Initiate Andrews peered over the edge of a crate of supplies, watching the metal walkway leading back into the Prydwen main living quarters. It was deserted this time of night; the dead lull between the guard shift change at zero-hundred and the first drills at zero-four-thirty.

"Quit looking over your shoulder," Initiate Malcom said, rolling his eyes. "Nobody saw us."

"Come on, let's be quick," Initiate Clarke said, smothering a yawn with one hand. "I've got duty in three hours and I'd like to get some sleep at some point."

"I'm not sure why we're even doing this," Andrews said.

Malcom sighed. "Come on, it's tradition. Graduating Initiate training classes always pull a prank on a senior officer."

"When they're at Rear-D they might, not in the field," Andrews replied.

"We're on the Prydwen," Clarke pointed out. "That's basically headquarters. Besides, that's the beauty of it - nobody will be expecting it."

"Yeah, I guess." Andrews cast one more glance around, then leaned in. "So, who's the target?"

Clarke snorted. "You even have to ask? Who's the most uptight, perfect, holier-than-thou hardass Paladin on this whole stupid ship?"

The three of them exchanged glances. Malcom started to snicker first, but it was catching; soon even Andrews was laughing, one hand pressed over his mouth to keep the noise down. "Okay, yeah," he said. "If we're taking Danse down a notch? I'm in."

"Any ideas?" Clarke asked. "It's gotta be something good. You remember last year, when Sheena spiked the soap in the officers' showers with blue dye? Whole senior staff was blue for a week."

"Yeah, and we were all scrubbing the dye off their floors on our hands and knees the whole time," Malcom grumbled.

"Worth it," Clarke said, "but yeah, I see your point. Besides, I'd prefer something a little more personal."

"Well..." Andrews said, a thoughtful look on his face. "I mean, there is _one_ thing... but no, that's probably over the line."

"What?" Malcom asked, rubbing his hands together. "Come on, don't hold out on us now."

Andrews shifted, a slow flush creeping up his face. "So, listen, you guys know how after a while in power armor, it starts to... I mean, the vibration and stuff..."

Malcom gave him a playful shove, chuckling. "Yeah man, we know. Everyone knows. Why do you think so many people disappear into their rooms right after armor drills?"

"Wait, wait, I think I see where you're going with this," Clarke said. "And that's _genius_."

"What is?" Malcolm scowled, looking between them. "I don't get it."

Clarke laughed, turning to him. "We just amp it up a little. Tweak the fit of his power armor so it's a little tighter in... let's say, strategic locations. Then all we'd have to do is get the hydraulic servos misaligned enough to increase the vibration, and... well, sit back and watch the fireworks."

Malcom's eyes widened and a slow grin spread across his face. "I _love_ it. Can you imagine him trying to lead armor drills and keep a straight face the whole time?"

"He does do a lot of field missions too," Andrews pointed out. "I mean, that kind of distraction in the field - it's kinda risky."

Clarke waved dismissively. "First of all, this is Danse. You remember the time he made the whole class practice in armor for six hours with no bathroom breaks?" He imitated Danse's low, rumbling growl: "Soldiers in the field must learn to ignore their physical needs for long periods of time if the mission demands it."

"God, yeah, I remember that," Andrews said. "Damn near pissed myself."

"Exactly," Malcom said. "He's got it coming to him."

Clarke nodded. "And second, this guy is basically a walking poster for perfect disclipline. He probably schedules his jerk-off sessions two weeks in advance and times himself with a stopwatch to see if he can improve his efficiency. If he was actually in combat, I guarantee you he'd be able to ignore it and focus no matter how bad he wanted to get off. He's not going to get hurt - he's just going to put on a hell of a funny show."

"Yeah," Andrews said, nodding. "You convinced me. Let's do this."

~~~

Danse woke up in a good mood. He was scheduled to go back out into the field; a nice, long recon mission with his newest recruit, Knight Reed. They'd clear out a few hostile locations, grab some useful tech, maybe even pick up some documents for Proctor Quinlan. The actual mission details were less important; he was mostly just pleased to be boots on the ground again. Time on the Prydwen was all well and good, but there was truly nothing like field work.

He hummed to himself as he took his shower and shaved, then slipped into his standard jumpsuit. He swung by the mess hall for breakfast. He spotted Knight Reed, drinking coffee and looking over a mission briefing, and sat down beside him. "Good morning, Knight," he said.

"Paladin Danse," Reed replied, nodding. He took another sip of his coffee and wrinkled his nose. "You know, coffee just isn't the same since the war."

"It's synthetic," Danse replied. "Nobody can raise actual coffee beans anymore. This is an imitation flavor crystal enhanced with caffiene for productivity reasons."

"Oh." Reed stared at him for a moment, his usual easy grin sliding into place. "Of course it is."  
Danse smiled back. Reed had uncommonly blue eyes - clear and deep, like a mountain lake. Then he caught himself and cleared his throat. "Don't linger, soldier," he said. "We need to be ready to depart in fifteen minutes."

"You got it," Reed said. The thumbs-up gesture he added seemed just a little sarcastic, but Danse let it go. The man was a capable soldier, even if he did toe the line of proper decorum.

He strode into the mech bay, headed for his power armor. It was waiting faithfully for him, clean and oiled, gleaming faintly in the flourescent light. The scribes had done a good job repairing the damage from his last mission; the claw marks were gone entirely and only a little scorching remained around the chest plate. He'd been out of the armor for more than a week while the repairs were taking place and he was eager to put it back on.

It opened with the familiar thunk and hiss of hydraulics, and he stepped in. It closed around his arms and legs and he shifted a little, frowning. It felt a bit snug in the hips. Then again, he'd been on board the Prydwen, eating a full officer's rations in the mess hall at every meal; maybe he'd overdone it. He shrugged - he'd soon get back to fighting weight in the field. They had a long way to walk.

~~~

It was a perfect day to be in the field. Cool and overcast, but not raining. No sun in his eyes, no thick heat making him sweat in his armor. He had a full fusion core, plenty of ammo, and a long mission ahead of him. Danse almost grinned, but reeled it in at the last moment. He had a new recruit to train, after all; it was always necessary to model correct behavior.

Reed walked ahead of him, weapon slung casually in his arms, his steps sure and steady. He almost never wore power armor, despite Danse's objections. Danse had to admit, he did fine without it; the man was astonishingly quick in combat. Not much good in hand to hand situations, granted, but fast and accurate with mid-range weapons. Danse made a big, obvious target, soaking up enemy strikes while Reed picked them off with deadly efficiency. So far, it worked for them.

The road was quiet this far into the western edges of the Commonwealth. Their vertibird ride had long since departed and the only sounds were the rhythmic whirrs and thunks of his armor with each step.

Actually... now that he thought about it, the armor was a little noisier than usual. Something about the low-key hum felt off. He was intimately famliar with his personal set of armor and it just didn't feel quite right. He frowned, shaking his head - one of the scribes must have failed to attenuate the servos correctly. He'd have to fix that next time they located a power armor repair station.

It was only a minor annoyance though, and he carried on. He was warming up now, muscles growing accustomed to the shift and push of moving in the heavy armor. He could feel each step thrumming through him, the vibrations coursing along his legs and over his belly, centering where the leg joints met with the hip frame. It set a kind of buzzing in his skin, low and pleasant.

Ahead of him, Reed leaned over, poking at something on the ground. He was dressed in a standard issue Brotherhood jumpsuit and it clung to his long, lean frame. His combat armor was strapped to his thighs; Danse could see where the straps were snug, just below the tight, round curve of his...

Danse cleared his throat and looked away. "Find something, soldier?"

"Yep," Reed said happily. "Some aluminum cans."

"If you keep picking up that junk, you're going to slow us down," Danse said sternly.

Reed cast an unimpressed glance over his shoulder. "I'm not the one slowing us down. Sir."

Danse blinked, then looked between them, realizing he'd let the distance grow while he was distracted by the feel of his armor. "My apologies," he said stiffly. "I will improve my pace."

Reed smiled, waving one hand. "Don't worry about it. We've got plenty of time."

"We have a schedule to adhere to," Danse replied. "Keep moving."

Reed didn't answer, but he did start walking again, his long legs covering the ground quickly. Danse hurried, closing the distance. He was careful to match Reed's stride, although it meant his hydraulics had to work a little harder. The low hum increased in pitch.

With every step, his armor rubbed a little. The jumpsuit was designed for exactly that, reducing friction and providing a comfortable layer over his skin, but something about the fit of his armor today was pressing closer than usual. He could feel the steady pressure of it, transmitting the vibration directly between his legs. This wasn't exactly unfamiliar - everyone knew about the subtle side effects of wearing power armor for a while - but he'd long ago learned to ignore it. This was something more... urgent.

Reed paused for a moment to stretch, arms lifted over his head and back arched. Danse could see the line of his waist, the smooth taper of his shoulders to his hips, well-defined and firm. He rolled his shoulders and settled his weapon more comfortably in his arms.

Danse gritted his teeth and kept walking.

The sweet, endless thrum and rub with each step was both delicious and maddening. His armor was even tighter now, his cock hard in his jumpsuit, pressed up against his belly. The sensitive underside butted right up to the inside of his armor, sliding up and down a little as he lifted his feet. He could feel the vibration in his thighs and belly, coursing over his chest, and especially right behind his balls, shuddering and teasing there.

Danse clenched his fists and focused on breathing. He counted his steps, forcing himself to breathe in and out steadily in time. One-two-three inhale, then one-two-three exhale. He stared straight ahead, making sure he did not allow his eyes to fall on that little dip at the small of Reed's back.

They went down a small incline and the angle changed, stroking him in longer, lighter sweeps as he adjusted his stride. Then, back on level ground, the pressure came right back, buzzing and shivering and rubbing him just so, just right _there_.

"Danse?"

He paused, looking up. "Yes?" he said, surprised at how strained his voice came out. "What is it, Knight?"

"Are you okay? You're looking a bit red in the face there. And you're sweating."

"I'm fine," Danse said. "It's just a little hot in the suit."

Reed gave him a skeptical look. "If you say so."

"Carry on, soldier," Danse said, staring him down.

Reed shrugged and turned around, walking on. Danse hesitated, knowing what would happen as soon as he started moving again. He took a long, measured breath, telling himself firmly that this was simply a question of mind over matter. He could compartmentalize. He was a professional.

He held onto that idea as his leg servos whined to life and the vibrations raced over his skin. _I can do this_ , he repeated to himself. _Discipline, soldier. Hold it together._

His cock throbbed with a low, sullen ache, the rubbing and buzzing of his armor enough to make him desperately hard, but not quite enough to get him all the way there. Which was good - coming in his pants like a teenager would be messy and embarrassing, and worst of all, even if he _did_ get off (and _god_ , that was tempting), the problem wouldn't go away. He'd just be sticky and oversensitive.

They climbed a hill; Reed lengthened his strides, leaning forward, muscles working in his thighs. His ass stood out in perfect clarity within that snug jumpsuit and Danse swallowed hard. He was almost close enough to touch. A shiver passed through him, tightening the skin on his chest and drawing his balls up close to his body and that maddening vibration was just so sweet, so perfectly focused, sharpening to an eye-watering peak.

Danse stopped abrubtly, leaning over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard. Once he held still the vibration stopped but it was almost too late, pleasure coiled and waiting in his belly, just needing that one last nudge to spill him over the edge. All it would take was a few more steps, one long stretch of his legs, letting the armor press right there, right at the head of his cock, tight against his stomach. His legs trembled and he held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

Then there was a cool hand on the back of his head and a concerned voice in his ear. "Danse? Are you hurt?"

He shook his head.

"You're shaking," Reed said. "And you're soaked with sweat. Are you sick? What's wrong?"

Danse didn't answer. He was slowly, slowly creeping back from the edge; he kept his gaze focused on the ground between his feet and tried to think about anything but the man beside him.

"Danse, come on," Reed said. "You're freaking me out. Say something."

"I'm alright," Danse said; his voice came out rusty and thin. "There's something wrong with my armor. It's making it a little hard... uh, _difficult_ , to move."

"Why didn't you just say so?" Reed asked. "Come here, sit down a minute before you fall over."

He allowed Reed to steer him toward a rock, moving as slowly as possible. He thumped down with a clatter of metal and let out a careful breath. Reed crouched in front of him, watching his face worriedly. "You look like you're about to pass out. Why'd you wait so long?"

Danse shook his head. "I'll be fine. I just need to catch my breath."

"Are you sure? Maybe you should get out of the armor."

"No," Danse said sharply. "That's... not necessary."

Reed narrowed his eyes, frowning. "Well, if you say so. But are you going to be able to keep going?"

"Do you know of any repair stations nearby?"

"Maybe." Reed poked at a few buttons on his Pip-boy. Danse tilted his head back and stared up at the sky, wishing he could climb out of his armor and slip a hand right into the seam of his jumpsuit, curl his hand around his cock, and give himself two or three quick strokes - that's all it would take. Just a little squeeze, a slide of skin, it would be such a _relief_.

But there was no privacy, and allowing that degree of distraction out in the open wasn't especially safe, either. Besides, those jumpsuits left nothing to the imagination; Reed would spot the problem the second he took his armor off.

"We're in luck," Reed said. "I marked the location of a garage with a repair station about half a kilometer from here. I cleared it of hostiles not that long ago, too, so we should be good to set up there and do the repairs. Can you make it that far?"

Danse hesitated. "I think it would be wise to stay here for a short time and recover before starting out again."

"I could wear the armor instead," Reed offered. "Let you have a break."

"No." Danse tried to muster up a smile. "Thank you for offering, but no. It's my responsibility."

Reed gave him that easy grin. "You're a hard man, Paladin Danse."

Danse closed his eyes and nodded weakly.

They sat for about fifteen minutes. Enough for Danse to drink some water and cool off, his body gradually unwinding from the brink. He ran protocol and regulations through his head until he softened and the sweet ache of arousal faded. He was left with a dull, dissatisfied throb in his balls and a faint headache, but he felt in control again.

"Alright," he said, getting to his feet. "Let's move out."

Reed nodded and fell into step beside him; Danse was aware that the man was casting concerned glances his way. He was oddly touched; they had worked together for a while, sure, but he hadn't realized Reed cared that much about his well being. It set off a curious warmth in his chest, which was, unfortunately, swiftly joined by a much more famliar heat.

His armor servos whirred and hummed, sending the vibrations through his body and spiralling in toward his cock, which was already twitching in his jumpsuit. He could feel the rush of arousal starting with dizzying speed, his body still unsatisfied and overly sensitive from the last long walk. _Just half a kilometer_ , he reminded himself. He just had to push through it.

Reed matched his stride, not rushing him. Danse sped up, trying to get it over with, and then had to slow the pace after a minute when the thrumming grew to be too much. He hardened quickly, cock aching and hot in his suit, rubbing in that same spot, just beneath the head. He bit his lip and was unable to completely swallow a low moan. Reed gave him a sharply worried look, but didn't comment.

He stretched his legs, covering more ground, but that just redirected the buzzing to that spot behind his balls that he could feel like claws all the way into his thighs. It hurt, but it felt amazing at the same time, and half of him wanted to keep going, to push into it, to give himself over and just let it happen. He was _so close_ and this had to be the longest kilometer of his life.

He stumbled and Reed caught his elbow, keeping him steady. This close, he could smell the other man, the faint whiff of road dust and a lingering tang of soap and coffee from his morning on the Prydwen. This was overlaid with clean salt sweat and sun-warmed cotton and something that was recognizably Reed, his own unique scent. Danse leaned on him; more than he really should, power armor was heavy, but his knees were starting to wobble.

Reed nearly carried him the last little bit, grunting with effort, and even that sound was enough to drive Danse a tiny bit closer. Passing into the cool dark interior of the garage was a sweet relief; he dropped onto a bench and put his head in his hands.

Reed disappeared for a few minutes, then returned. "I checked the area; we're clear. Let's get you out of that armor."

"Not yet," Danse said. "I... I need a minute."

"Don't be an idiot," Reed snapped. "Take it off before you have a heat stroke or something."

"Watch your tone, soldier," Danse muttered, but his voice lacked any conviction. Most of his focus was tied up with the delicious throb between his legs, radiating heat and pleasure and want. His hips rocked slightly, rubbing his cock up against his armor, and he shuddered.

There was movement around him, then a click and a hiss and he found himself shoved to his feet as his armor opened. He fell out the back, landing on the floor with an undignified yelp. Reed stood over him, hands on his hips, shaking his head. "There," he said. "You've got to be the most stubborn man I've ever met. Are you..." He trailed off, his eyebrows going up until they nearly met his hairline.

Danse glanced down at himself and then grimaced, looking away.

"Oh," Reed said. His voice sounded strangely muffled. Danse risked a look up; Reed had one hand pressed over his mouth and his eyes were dancing.

"It's not funny," Danse growled.

"Oh my god," Reed sputtered. "Seriously? This whole time? I thought you were seriously hurt or something! And all you had was a case of power armor blue balls?"

"A case of _what_?"

Reed rolled his eyes. "I was a soldier before the war, remember? We had plenty of power armor suits. Everyone knew about it - the vibration, the heat and pressure, the way they fit. You got used to it. Sure led to a lot of fucking in the barracks after training exercises, let me tell you."

"I'm aware of the effects of power armor," Danse replied stiffly. "My training prohibits such physical responses. Normally. Something's wrong with my suit."

"Wow." Reed chuckled, shaking his head. "Okay, whatever. I'll step outside if you wanna take care of that."

Danse scowled. "Protocol forbids engaging in any kind of... personal activity of that nature while on an active field mission."

"You gotta be kidding me," Reed said. "So, that whole time you guys were at Cambridge police station, you didn't...?"

"That would be against regulations."

"Well, that explains why Rhys was such a dick," Reed muttered. "And suddenly I know why everyone in the Brotherhood is so tightly wound. Seriously, Danse, that's not good for you."

Danse cleared his throat, taking a measured breath. "I am aware that many members of the Brotherhood do not adhere to this particular regulation as closely as I do. But as the senior Paladin on board, it falls to me to set the standard for the rest of the crew. I must be the example, not the exception."

Reed tilted his head to one side, considering. "You're not on board right now though, are you? And there's nobody here to see." He grinned, nudging Danse in one shoulder. "Go on. You'll feel better. Besides, if you don't, you're going to be in a miserable pissy mood all day and I don't want to deal with it."

"You are astonishingly insubordinate," Danse grumbled.

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

Danse got carefully to his feet, wincing a little as his jumpsuit rubbed against his cock. He was, unbelievably, _still_ hard, the material stretched taut over his sensitive skin. Reed smiled and took a step closer. Danse went still, watching him.

"You know," Reed said, " _you_ wouldn't be 'engaging in personal activity' if I was the one who helped you out, right?"

Danse felt his breathing catch in his throat and his cock gave a decidedly interested twitch. "I, ah... I'm not sure that's quite the way the regulation is intended to be read..."

"Hmm, I think it is," Reed murmured. He took another step, his chest nearly brushing against Danse. "I think this is exactly what the Brotherhood had in mind. Think of the camraderie. The _esprit de corps_. It fosters, you know, trust and loyalty and all that. What's a little helping hand between friends?"

Danse opened his mouth and then shut it again with a snap when Reed tucked a hand at the small of his back, drawing him in. He wound up pressed against the other man's hip, the firm ridge of bone angled just right for him to thrust along, warm and solid. His eyes fluttered shut and he groaned, hips jerking involuntarily.

"Yeah," Reed breathed in his ear. "That's good, just let me..." His long fingers crept into the seam of Danse's jumpsuit, opening the gap and trailing along his quivering belly. They felt shockingly cold against his overheated skin and he gasped, squirming.

"You want it?" Reed asked. "Tell me, Danse. Tell me you want it."

"I..." Danse whimpered low in his throat, hands clenched into fists at his side. "Yes, I want it, do it, _please_ ," he said, the words all coming out in a rush. "I can't, it's... oh god _hurry_."

"Perfect," Reed said, a deep rumble that made Danse shiver. "So good, you're so good, just hold still for me and I'm gonna take care of you."

He curled his hand around Danse's cock and that first deep, smooth stroke made him cry out in pleasure and relief. Danse was aware that he was making noise, babbling, begging, but he just didn't care. It was finally, _finally_ what he needed, what he'd needed for _hours_ and his whole body was singing like a plucked bowstring.

"Yes yes yes," he mumbled, "please, right there, oh please, Reed I want, I want, you have to..."

"There we go," Reed said, "just like that. Relax, Danse, it's okay, you can let it go, shhh."

He added a twist right at the tip, hand tight and slick, the friction driving Danse over the edge. The orgasm started in the balls of his feet and gathered momentum until he was clutching at Reed, gasping nonsense against his neck and shaking with pleasure. Reed wrung every last bit out of him, gentling his strokes until the shivers passed and Danse was loose and breathless.

The next time Danse opened his eyes, he was sprawled on the floor, his cock tucked away in his jumpsuit and his whole body limp and sated. Reed was beside him, still with that wry grin, bright-eyed and smug. "There you are," he said. "Feeling better?"

Danse nodded sleepily. "Yes. Thank you, Knight. Exemplary performance."

Reed chuckled and ran a hand through Danse's hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. Danse looked up at him, meeting his eyes for a long moment. "Do, uh... do you want me to..."

"Not just yet," Reed said. "I kinda want to wear your armor first. Let's see if I can walk longer than you without losing it."

Danse grinned. "You're on."

~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this as a short, porny break from a much larger work. Because I love Danse, and I love the idea of him getting all hot and bothered and desperate in his power armor.


End file.
